Temporary Intrigue (17 page)

The last four words were small comfort, even less so on Tuesday when she received an email saying he wouldn’t be back until Thursday. Apparently he felt the convention preparations could get along without him after all.

“He didn’t even say anything personal,” she lamented during a phone call to Sandra.

“Keeping a professional distance,” Sandra guessed.

“Let’s hear it for work ethics,” muttered Dimity sourly.

By Thursday morning she was finding it hard to stay awake at her desk, thanks to a combination of Gail’s absence at work and sleep deprivation at home. Shane was suspicious about his car’s steering, so Leigh had left it at a garage to be checked and then retired to bed, apparently exhausted by the effort. This meant that as well as having to stay up late to collect Shane from work on Wednesday night, Dimity had to get up early on Thursday to catch the bus, after agreeing to leave her car so Leigh could take Shane to an early job interview.

“As long as you nail up that fence panel today,” she had bargained with Shane. “I’m worried Bert will get out. And get Leigh to pick me up this afternoon.”

By noon, with little to do at work, she’d had enough of boredom.

“I’m taking an early lunch,” she told Amanda, switching her phone over to voicemail.

Glad to escape the building, she set off along the foreshore. Others had the same idea. Half the city’s work force, in fact, seemed to be strolling along the harbour in the autumn sunshine. Wending her way through the outdoor restaurant tables, Dimity spotted Don and Marian.

“Come and have coffee,” Marian invited. “Oh,” she went on as Dimity sat down, “there’s Jenny. I need to ask her about tennis next week.” She darted over to a group at another table.

“We’re expecting a good roll-up for your workshop this weekend,” Don told Dimity.

“Great– whoops!”

Dimity flinched as a passing child waved an ice cream so vigorously that a section of it flew off and landed near her mouth.

Don laughed.

“Good shot.”

He picked up a paper serviette. Dimity laughed too while he began the clean-up operation.

“Looks like boysenberry,” he commented.

From the corner of her eye Dimity saw a tall figure approaching. Something familiar about it drew her attention. Despite Don’s ministrations she turned her head in time to see Josh, coat slung over his shoulder, talking on his mobile as he walked past the table. He acknowledged her with a surprised lift of his eyebrows, almost paused, then glanced at Don and kept going.

Terrific. Now he would think she was cosying up to some man while playing truant from the office. Double whammy.

After Don and Marian had gone she sat looking out at the harbour. From her position she could see the convict-built breakwall leading out to an old lighthouse that was soon to be converted to yet another new restaurant.

Maybe Josh would turn back, looking for her. Maybe he would suggest they brush away the cobwebs with a walk out to the breakwall’s end, to watch the surf crashing on rocks at the point where harbour met ocean.

Maybe pigs would fly.

She waited until her lunch hour was almost up then trailed back to the office. The light on her phone indicated that two messages had come in. There was also a message on her mobile, which she had left on her desk in her hurry to escape. It was from Shane. Leigh was not feeling well, so couldn’t pick her up. He’d been called in to work so could Dimity be home by six to take him to Shenanigans? He’d leave a stir fry for dinner, he added as a sweetener.

As she replayed the messages on her desk phone she could hear Josh making a call from his office.

The first message was from Harold Woodman, once again wanting Josh to contact him urgently. She was scribbling the details down when the second message began.

“Hi.” With a thrill of shock she recognised Josh’s voice. “Are you free for lunch? I’m taking a walk after the drive and thought you might like to show me this breakwall everyone’s been telling me about. I’ll see you in a few–”

The message stopped abruptly. She’d take a bet the cut-off point occurred when Don was wiping her chin.

Somebody up there sure didn’t like her today.

When she heard Josh finish his phone call she put her head around the door.

“How was Sydney?” She tried a professional smile, which he returned with a touch of reservation.

“Fine. Have you been to lunch already? I thought you went at one.”

She moved into the office.

“I needed some fresh air to wake me up. Late night.”

Bad choice of words. Now he’d think she’d been raging at Shenanigans or somewhere similar.

“I just found your message,” she added quickly. “Sorry I missed it. I would have liked to go.”

Her harbourside dream come true, and she probably sounded as unconcerned as if she’d missed out on a stick of chewing gum.

“No problem. We can add it to the other rain check. Start a collection.”

His eyes smiled, but there was still reserve in the air between them.

“I’m going out for a quick bite.” He stood, giving her a level glance. “I would have stopped when I saw you earlier, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Her throat constricted. She stood her ground, leaning against the doorway for support.

“You wouldn’t have been interrupting. That was Don, the art gallery director. I would have liked to introduce you to him and his wife.” She forced herself to smile. “You probably saw Don cleaning me up. A little boy splashed ice cream on me.”

“If the cars don’t get you, the kids will.” His grin was wry but she sensed him loosening up. “You must be jinxed.”

“I’ve been wondering about that myself,” said Dimity with feeling. “Maybe Gail’s up on the roof sticking pins into a little wax Dimity doll.”

Too late she wondered if her words were wise. Maybe Josh frowned on spite between staff members. But he gave a spontaneous guffaw that drew an answering chuckle from her.

“How about a drink after work?” He sat on the edge of his desk, hands in pockets, apparently no longer in a hurry for lunch.

Clearly Gail was going to town with those pins.

“I’d love to, but I have to get home by six to take Shane to work.”

Josh’s mouth tightened. Then he made a visible effort to relax.

“Another one for the rain check pile,” he said lightly.

He stood up.

“By the way, I thought of your paintings when I was in the board room in Sydney. The art work on the wall there is pretty average. Yours would run rings around them.”

His praise touched her. Unexpectedly, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. He looked away and picked up his jacket.

“I’ll be at meetings this afternoon, but at this stage I think I’ll be here tomorrow.” He paused beside her, looking down at her. “Maybe we can start doing something about those rain checks.”

“Why not?” Every nerve end in her body was standing up to be counted. She was smiling inanely and didn’t care.

Tomorrow.

Rain checks.

Translated: he wanted to keep seeing her.

Well, she would do everything she could to help him.

“I keep meaning to mention,” she said quickly, “if you have trouble contacting me, you can usually get me on my mobile number.”

“Which is?”

He had his own phone out in an instant, keying in her number.

Once he had gone, her happiness faded to some extent while she brooded over his frostiness towards Shane. It was much the same at home. Shane had stiffened noticeably when he heard that her work situation now involved Josh. She had hoped they might get to know each other better over the Sunday lunch that hadn’t eventuated.

Nothing, it seemed, was straightforward.

Late in the afternoon when she was transcribing a tape, Josh approached her with Gail close behind him.

“I’ll be in Gail’s office, working on a couple of press releases,” he said.

“We’ll put them on tape for you to transcribe immediately,” Gail added crisply.

The phone rang in Josh’s office. He went to answer it.

“Please make sure you erase and replace tapes as you finish them,” said Gail, looking down her nose at several used tapes scattered around the dictaphone on the desk, then stood tapping her foot until Josh came back.

“Did you take a message for me to call Harold Woodman?” he asked Dimity.

Uh oh. Guiltily, trying not to hear Gail’s “Tsk!” of disapproval, she scrabbled among the wreckage on her desk and excavated the note pad with the details of the call from her voicemail after lunch.

She held it out. Josh made no attempt to take it.

“He just called back – luckily on my direct line this time. Any other urgent messages there?”

“No.” She gave him stare for stare. “I’m sorry. Mistakes happen.”

“I’ve noticed.” He didn’t look very organised himself. His hair gave the impression he had run his fingers through it, his tie was askew and, like her, he had the appearance of someone who needed a good night’s sleep.

Turning away he bumped into Gail who made no attempt to avoid him. He stepped back as if she had bitten him.

“Let’s get on with this meeting,” he said abruptly.

They disappeared into Gail’s office, leaving Dimity to go back to the tape she was transcribing.

As she finished and extracted it, Sandra rang.

“Thank goodness for a friendly voice,” Dimity told her fervently. She launched into a recital of her woes, cutting off in mid flow as Josh emerged from Gail’s office and dropped a tape onto her desk.

“They’re the press releases Gail mentioned. Tomorrow will be fine for them.” He strode into his office.

“Gotta go,” Dimity muttered into the phone. “See you later. Come for dinner.”

Mindful of Gail’s advice she put a tape in the dictaphone and set it to erase while clearing her desk by the usual method of thrusting everything into drawers. It was almost five o’clock, but there was no need to rush. She could get the later bus and still be home by six for Shane. Meanwhile she could earn herself some much-needed brownie points by doing a bit of overtime.

****

Dimity’s appearance in his doorway about ten minutes after five startled Josh.

“I thought you’d left.” He’d felt like a heel after snapping at her about the forgotten phone call. Now he experienced a rush of gladness at the sight of her.

“Not yet.” She looked tired and far from happy. He hoped Gail hadn’t been hounding her again. Even as he wondered, he saw Gail swish past with her coat and bag, clearly finished for the day and throwing a suspicious look their way as she went.

“I was wondering,” Dimity continued, “whether you know if – I wondered, I mean I thought there might be a way– ”

Presumably this was going somewhere. He propped his elbows on the desk and rested his chin on his clasped fingers, admiring the way her short blonde hair curled below her ears.

“Look, Josh, I’m really sorry but I think – well, technology isn’t my strong point, but what I was wondering is, do you know if there’s any way to recover the original material on a tape after it’s been wiped?”